Four Walls and a Roof
by reachfortheschuyler
Summary: In the zombie apocalypse, all Regina really wants is a place to call home. M for blood and violence.


_Happy Valentine's Day, WoolGrillRegal! Here is a little Walking Dead/OQ inspired piece with a special shout out to Richonne! I hope you like it!_

* * *

She can't remember what the forest sounded like before. Before every quiet corner was filled with the gurgling, moaning, and gnashing of the undead. Before the rushing of the stream was interrupted by the thrashing of a walker trying to cross the water. Before the squealing and screaming of animals being mauled by hoards of decaying teeth and hands woke her up in the heart of the night.

She imagines it was peaceful, before. The serenity promised by a hike in the woods kept sacred by all who passed through. A search for calm or peace of mind, a quest for answers in an uncertain world. It must have been peaceful, before.

But it is not before. It is now. And the only peace of mind found in the forest now is the comfort that comes from knowing your gun is loaded and your knife is sharp. Streams and trees don't hold the answers anymore. Bullets and blades and blood do. Safety, in its most primitive form.

She has watch until sundown, and from her perch in the large oak tree, the sun seems to be hovering just above the horizon. It's beautiful, this time of day, the way the sunlight melts into orange rays, casting the forest in an otherworldly kind of glow, even if it does mean the danger of nightfall is mere hours away.

If the sun is setting, that means Henry should be back soon, and thank god for it. She knows he's capable, and handy with a pistol, her little boy, but she doubts she will ever feel completely comfortable with letting him go off someplace without her, even if Emma and Killian are right by his side. Because no matter how much planning goes into any kind of mission, in the end, something always goes wrong, and in the end, they always end up running.

But it's a simple supply run, a straightforward journey into town with medicine and food in mind, something Henry's done countless times before, so she'll try to quell the surge of anxiety swirling in her stomach, and trust that her son will be returned to her, unharmed and whole.

She sighs, stretches, twists from side to side until something in her back pops and a bit of the tension she's been feeling all day slowly fades away. She does the same to her neck, rolls it forward and backward until an oddly satisfying crack hits her ears and she exhales.

"Well, that didn't sound good."

Regina startles at the voice and looks down, heartbeat calming when she sees just who has decided to climb her tree. "You scared me," she says as Robin hoists his way up the hanging ladder, swinging himself up to her sturdy branch. She scoots over to make room for him, welcoming the peck he drops to her lips in greeting.

"Sorry, but whatever you just cracked scared _me,"_ he answers. "It sounded like you were popping bubble wrap up here."

Regina rolls her eyes and adjusts her hold on the assault rifle resting on her lap. It's only got a couple of rounds left in it, but it's scary and effective should any wayward wanderers come near their camp. "Sitting in a tree for hours doesn't exactly do wonders for the back," she dismisses, swinging her legs a bit.

Robin hums and rubs his hand up and down her spine. "Then I suppose a massage is in order once your watch is over."

"A massage, hmm? Sounds like an excuse just for you to run your hands all over me," she teases.

"An opportunity to touch you? That's something I'll always take," he returns with a cheeky grin. He intertwines their fingers and kisses her knuckles. "Where's Roland?" he asks, settling their linked hands in his lap.

"With Granny Lucas at the stream," Regina answers. "He's helping her with the laundry."

"Hmm, good lad," Robin muses. "I trust Granny took her crossbow with her?"

Regina raises a pointed eyebrow. "Are you kidding? She doesn't go anywhere without it. I'm pretty sure she sleeps with it in her arms."

Robin chuckles. "You're probably right. Henry back yet?"

"Not that I've heard. Emma said they'd be back by sundown, so they should be here within the next half hour or so." Regina looks over at Robin and frowns at the cut on the side of his forehead. "How did you get this?" she asks, reaching up and inspecting the skin around it gently.

"Stupidly," he answers. He reaches behind his back and pulls his own crossbow around his shoulder and into his lap. He holds it up so Regina can see the front. "The cord snapped just as I was pulling the trigger. Sliced right across my forehead." He lifts the end of the broken cord and then drops it unceremoniously, scowling at his damaged weapon.

"Can you mend it?" Regina asks.

"Probably," Robin sighs, slinging the crossbow over his shoulder so it rests on his back. "Not worth the runt of a squirrel I was aiming for, though."

"Did you see much game while you were out?"

Robin shakes his head. "No. Aside from the squirrel that got away, I saw one chipmunk and a mouse." He chews on his bottom lip for a moment. "Every week, it's fewer and fewer. Pretty soon, there might not be anything."

Regina squeezes his hand. "It's winter. Georgia winter, but winter nonetheless. The animals are probably just hibernating or-"

"No, it's not just that," Robin interrupts. "Even in winter, there has never been this few before."

Regina exhales. "Okay. So what does that mean for us?"

Robin flicks a speck of dirt off his thigh. "It means that other people are hunting the same game we are. Whether those people are alive or dead, I'm not sure. But they're out there. And they're nearby."

"But we haven't seen anyone for weeks. And the only walkers that have come by are by themselves or in small groups. The last time a herd came through was back in autumn."

Robin sighs and kisses her hand again. "I don't know for sure, love. But I think it would be wise for us to consider moving camp soon. We don't want to be caught unaware, by the living or the dead."

"Mary Margaret and David won't listen to that," Regina points out. "They like it here. They think we can put down some permanent roots, make a _real_ camp with higher walls and structures and stuff."

"Do you want that?" Robin asks. "To stay here?"

Regina shrugs and glances down at the forest floor below. The camp they have now is nice, and the location is ideal, close to the stream with good tree cover and high elevation. It's everything they could possibly hope to find in the woods. But the game is dwindling, the town nearby has been picked through thousands of times, and if Robin is right, if there is another group out there, dead or alive, it could mean disaster for everyone.

"I don't care where we are," she answers, avoiding his gaze.

"But?" Robin prompts, reading her like an open book.

Regina sighs and tilts her head back, letting her long braid fall over her shoulder. "I just… I want a place where we can _stay._ A place that we don't have to think about leaving a few weeks down the road because there's a herd on our trail, or because another group threatens us and makes us leave. A place that's safe and strong and ours. Where the boys can grow up and we can grow old. I just… I want…"

"A home," Robin finishes.

"Yeah," Regina murmurs, looking down. "Something like that, stupid as it is to wish."

"It's not stupid at all, my love," Robin says, wrapping his arm around her waist. "I want the same thing. There's no harm in wishing."

"Yeah, no harm until you feel the sting of disappointment when it doesn't come true," Regina mutters. She shakes her head. "Besides. A home is a pipe dream these days. There's no point in wishing."

Robin hums as if he disagrees, but he drops it, and they fall into a comfortable silence as the sun starts to slip beyond the horizon. Regina rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes, a bad practice for someone on watch, but Robin has eyes like a hawk so she's not terribly worried. He smells like earth and pine, and she suspects she does as well, but there's something about Robin's scent that calms her.

He's dirty, his thermal shirt is more brown than it is white and his green jacket is stained with smears of who knows what. His pants and boots are muddy, and there is a considerable amount of dirt caked underneath his fingernails. He needs a bath, but she knows there is no way he'll be plunging into the frigid waters of the stream anytime soon. Maybe she can convince him to let her give him a sponge bath, with water heated over the fire and a rag that can scrub all the hard-to-reach places. If it involves her touching his naked body, he'll most likely agree to it in a heartbeat.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Robin says after a long while. "I have something for you." He reaches into his pocket and pulls something out, concealing it with his fist.

"A present? What's the occasion?"

"Do I need an occasion to give my wife a gift?" Robin asks, ever the sappy romantic. "Besides, I don't think you'd want me to wait for an excuse to give this to you."

"Oh really?"

"Mmhmm. What is the one thing you said you'd give your right arm to have?"

Regina twists her mouth to the side as she lifts her head from his shoulder, studying his face with playful skepticism. "I say a lot of things," she answers coyly.

"Mm, that you do," Robin agrees. "But think. What is something you're absolutely dying for? Something from before?"

"Oh, goodness, let's see… well, I could use a hot shower, and a few more pairs of shoes, and a mattress, and ooh, I could _really_ go for some tacos-"

Robin chuckles. "Okay, let me clarify: something you would use in the morning."

Regina makes a show of thinking and taps her chin. "The morning, you say? If you have a rotating cleansing face brush in your hand, I'll love you forever."

Robin chuckles and opens his fist, revealing a roll of spearmint Lifesavers in his hand.

Regina bursts out laughing at the sight of them, shoving his shoulder playfully as she tears the mints from his grasp. "Is this instead of toothpaste?"

"I looked high and low, but alas, no Crest spearmint with baking soda was to be found," Robin laments with a smile. "I came across an abandoned campsite a few miles north. There wasn't much, but the mints were in one of the knapsacks left behind. I figured it could still give you that touch of minty freshness you've been missing so much."

Regina smiles and shakes her head, tucking the mints into her pocket. "Don't pretend you enjoy kissing my fog breath in the morning."

"I love kissing you always, my love," Robin says, bringing his hand up to hook a finger under her chin. "Anytime, anywhere." He closes the distance between them and captures her lips with his, his beard tickling her skin. He tightens his hold on her waist, pulling her tighter against him. Regina clutches his arm as his tongue tangles with hers, letting free a soft moan that has Robin diverting his attention to her jaw and neck.

"Robin," she sighs, tilting her head back to give him more room.

"Yes?"

"I'm on watch," she argues weakly, breath hitching in the middle.

"Mm, the sun's nearly down," Robin dismisses against her pulse point. "I'd say you're off-duty, Mrs. Locksley."

"Oh, well in _that_ case…" Regina murmurs, tugging on his hair to lift his head up and crash her lips to his with a searing touch.

Robin groans at her enthusiasm and shifts, twisting around until he's straddling the tree branch, a leg hanging over either side. He leans back against the trunk and then reaches for her, practically hauling her over to him until she's situated snugly between his thighs. Regina wastes no time in kissing him again, using the improved support of their new position to press herself against him, eliminating any space between their torsos. Robin's hands run down her back and find purchase on her ass, squeezing and releasing greedily. Regina threads her fingers through his hair and tugs gently, relishing in the growl Robin lets out. He's hard against her thigh and if only they weren't in a damn tree, she'd fuck him right here and now, walkers and watch be damned-

"Oy, Regina!"

They jump apart at the shout and Regina nearly loses her balance on the branch, but Robin holds her fast. They both peer down to the forest floor below to see Will grinning up at them, shotgun slung over his shoulder. "Not watching much up there, are ya?" he calls cheekily.

"Sun's down, my watch is over," she shouts back, glancing around at the purplish glow of the expanding twilight.

"Watch ain't over until the next person gets there," Will reminds her, ambling toward the rope ladder along the tree trunk.

"Well, forgive me if the next person is _late."_

Will chuckles. "I'm just pulling your leg. Henry just got back, and Roland's been asking for ya. Why don't you both come down so I can go up?"

"That's not exactly the type of coming I had in mind," Robin grumbles under his breath.

Regina whacks his shoulder as she swings herself around to find footing on the top of the ladder. "Play your cards right and you might still get the other kind," she teases with a wink before starting her descent down the tree.

She hears Robin blow out a breath to compose himself before he follows her lead and maneuvers over to the ladder. She glances up to steal a shameless eyeful of his ass and smirks to herself, but then frowns when she catches sight of the broken cord of his crossbow, dangling uselessly down his back. He needs to fix that as soon as possible, for his safety and her own peace of mind. Being armed and protected is a must in this undead world, and knowing he is vulnerable without his most cherished weapon makes her nervous.

They both drop to the leaf-covered ground, endure a few well-worded jibes from Will, and wait for him to reach the branch they had just vacated before heading back to camp, with a roll of mints, a broken crossbow, and a stiff spine being all they have to show for the day.

* * *

It's the shouts that wake her up.

The calls, the screams, and most terrifying of all, the gunshots.

Regina jerks awake, bolting upright at the growing cacophony just outside their tent. "Robin!" she exclaims, shaking him until he wakes, slowly at first and then all at once, shooting up with wild eyes.

"What is it? What's the matter?" he asks as Regina scrambles to her feet.

"I don't know," she answers, tugging on pants and a shirt in record speed. The unmistakable sound of gurgling moans beyond the walls of their tent gives them their answer.

"Shit," Robin mumbles, reaching for his clothes and yanking them on.

They burst out of their tent not thirty seconds later, a glock in Regina's hand and a machete in Robin's, freezing for a moment at the state of their camp. Walkers trip and drag and stumble everywhere, moaning and groaning as they chase after any living thing within sight. The dying fires from earlier in the night give flickering illumination to the mingling of undead and soon-to-be-dead. Gunshots ring out as David takes down one, two, three walkers, as Emma eliminates a line of them backing her against a tree. Killian slices through the forehead of one and then spins to stab another, blood and guts splattering through the air. The unmistakable sound of arrows being let loose and finding their marks adds to the mounting symphony of self-defense, Will's and Granny's crossbows acting as conductors.

Robin turns suddenly and impales his machete into the head of a walker coming up beside them, yanking the blade free with a spray of brains. He locks eyes with Regina and they both nod once, before splitting up and entering into the fray.

Regina raises her gun and turns to the walker closest to her, sending it to the ground with the pull of a trigger. She fires off a shot at one approaching Ruby's back, then turns and helps Leroy out by taking down two of the five he's fending off with an ax. She aims for a third, but the blood-curdling scream of a child stops her cold.

She spins and her heart leaps into her throat when she sees Roland's wide, terrified eyes as he cowers behind Henry's legs. Henry's firing off his own gun, taking out the group of walkers that is threatening to descend upon them, but he takes a step back to steady himself and gets caught in Roland's vice grip, causing him to lose his balance and fall backwards, taking Roland down with him.

Regina nearly screams as the walkers get closer to her sons because no, no, _no,_ she will _not_ lose them, she _cannot_ lose them. She raises her gun and fires, running across the camp to her boys, eliminating one walker and then another, shouting her sons' names as Henry sits up, shielding Roland with his arm. He lifts his gun again, but his aim is off with only one hand to steady his grip, so his shot misses its mark and a walker stumbles closer and closer to them.

Regina squeezes the trigger again, but no bullet releases, and she tosses it to the ground, furious at the empty mag and the nonrenewableness of ammunition. She pulls a knife from her waistband and embeds it into the skull of the walker looming over her sons, yanking it free and driving it through the eye socket of another walker coming up beside them. She lets the walker fall to the ground with her knife still in it, blood as black as night pouring down its decayed flesh.

Regina drops to her knees in front of her sons, breathing heavily as she pulls them into her arms. "Are you alright? Are you hurt?" she asks, inspecting them both for any injuries.

"No, we're- Mom! Look out!" Henry shouts, shoving her aside with surprising strength. He raises his gun just in time to obliterate a walker poised to fall on top of them, knocking it backward with the force of the bullet.

Regina inhales and exhales deeply as she sits up from her knocked over position. "Thanks," she breathes, looking around the campsite to- amazingly- see most of the walkers taken care of. The few that remain are easy enough to handle. She catches sight of Robin slicing the head off one a couple yards away and sends a prayer of thanks up to whatever gods are watching that he survived this latest attack.

She's brought back to the moment by Roland catapulting into her arms, shaking and sobbing into her shoulder. "Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay, you're safe, mommy's got you," she coos, rocking him back and forth. "It's alright, baby, I know it was scary, but it's over, you're safe now."

Roland just cries harder and clutches her tighter, nearly cutting off her airway with the grip of his arms around her neck.

Regina looks over at a trembling Henry and hooks a finger under his chin. "You're safe," she tells him. "You did a very brave thing, protecting your brother."

"I almost didn't though," Henry swallows, looking down at his gun resting limply in his hand.

"Doesn't matter. He's safe because of you. You're _both_ safe because of you." She leans forward and kisses his forehead, not willing to entertain the thought of them being anything other than whole and unharmed.

Regina struggles to her feet with Roland in her arms, shifting him to her hip and shushing him gently as she and Henry move to rejoin the rest of the group in the center of camp. They step carefully over and around the bodies of walkers now littering the ground. The sky is starting to turn a grayish purple, dawn is just around the corner no doubt, and it's easier to see just how many walkers invaded their refuge. Dozens, too many to count, and it terrifies Regina to the very core to think that tonight could have been the end.

Robin rushes over to her as they approach, wordless questions of safety and injury in his eyes. She nods to reassure him and he exhales, reaching out a hand to squeeze Henry's shoulder before leaning in and kissing her soundly.

"You're alright, son," Robin murmurs to a still crying Roland, stroking his fingers through his hair. "It's safe now. Everything's okay."

"Did anyone get hurt?" Regina asks David, turning her attention to the larger group gathered.

David shakes his head. "No. Somehow, by the grace of God."

"What happened? Who was on watch?" Robin demands, a little harsher than he probably would have liked.

"I was," Ruby admits, raising a meek hand. "I saw the one herd coming from the south, and I was about to holler, but then a separate herd started coming from the east. They mixed together and well, let's just say the fence didn't stand a chance." She points to the collapsed mess of wooden posts and rope in what once was the southeast corner of their camp. "There was nothing I could do."

"We know that, Ruby. No one's blaming you," Mary Margaret soothes, rubbing slow circles around the swell of her growing stomach. "But the question is, now what?"

"Now we reinforce the fence, burn the walkers, and repair anything that was broken in the fight," David states, hands on his hips.

A moment of silence passes, and then Emma speaks up: "Or…"

"Or?" David echoes.

"Or we move on," Emma says. "Leave this place behind and find somewhere new."

Mary Margaret shrugs as she looks at David. "It wouldn't hurt to see if there's anyplace else. I actually think there's a prison a few miles up the interstate. That would be the perfect place to-"

"No, that's not what I meant," Emma interrupts. She looks around at the group, gauging reactions. "I meant, we should leave Atlanta."

Stunned silence follows, and Regina's eyebrows shoot up. She always knew Emma had an adventurous spirit, but she never would have guessed it would extend to such absurdities.

"And go where?" Granny barks.

Emma looks down at her feet. "Um…"

"D.C.?" Killian guesses knowingly, a look of disapproval on his face. "Emma, love, we've talked about this-"

"It's our best chance!" Emma interjects. "There could something, anything, there. There could be answers, or people in charge, or I don't know, there could be a nuclear bomb and we could just blow up the whole freaking world. But there has to be something."

"There isn't anything," David counters. "There hasn't been anything for a long time. And trying to get to D.C. would be a fool's errand. We'd all be dead before we made it halfway."

"David, watch what you say," Regina hisses in warning, cupping the back of Roland's head.

"Sorry," he offers. "My point is that it would be dangerous, and pointless, and not worth the risk."

"Having a purpose isn't worth the risk?" Emma argues. "Because that's what this would give us: a purpose. A purpose to wake up everyday and live in this fucking hell of a world. Because I don't know about you, but hunting for food in a gameless forest and a fishless stream isn't a purpose. And sitting in trees for hours on end waiting for the next threat to find us isn't a purpose. And being woken up in the middle of the night because a zombie army wants to rip us limb from limb sure as hell isn't a purpose." She kicks the head of a nearby walker in frustration. "But going to D.C.? Having a goal? Having some kind of _hope?_ That is a purpose. That is what we need."

No one speaks when she finishes, her words swirling around them like a changing wind on an autumn day. Regina absently combs her fingers through Roland's hair. He's quieted down, and from the pace of breaths on her neck, she imagines he's nearly fallen asleep, exhausted from emotions too big for a little boy like him. She glances at Robin and is unsurprised to see him chewing on his bottom lip, thinking.

He wants to move on, he made that much clear earlier in the tree, but would he be willing to go that far? To travel all that distance? It's risky, so incredibly risky and she's not entirely sure the payoff would be worth it. Having a purpose, as Emma said, would be good, Regina supposes, but would they really be headed to a purpose? Or would they be heading to their deaths? Are their lives worth that gamble? Henry's and Roland's certainly are not. She would never do anything to put them in harm's way, to endanger them. But they were endangered tonight, weren't they? Right here in Atlanta. Maybe here isn't safer than there. Maybe nowhere is safe.

"Alright," David says after awhile. "I hear you, Emma, I do. But I think we all need a little bit to think about it. So let's take the day, clean up what we can, and then we'll make a decision tonight. Agreed?"

Nods get passed around the circle and then assignments for clean up are handed out, breaking the group up to repair all the damage done by their undead visitors.

Regina lays Roland down in his and Henry's tent, taking a long moment to just look at his peaceful, sweet face. She wants what's best for him and Henry, always, and before, before everything changed, she thought she knew what was best for them, but now? Now she's not sure if she knows anything.

She kisses Roland's forehead and then crawls out of the tent into the outstretched hand of Robin. "Come with me to the stream for water?" he asks, helping her to her feet. She agrees and tucks herself underneath the comforting weight of his arm.

The walk to the stream is quiet, surprisingly so. The forest itself seems to have finally settled and no foreboding sounds echo from the far corners. Robin crouches by the water's edge and takes his time filling two milk jugs with water, screwing on the caps slowly. He stands and passes one jug to her, letting his fingers linger on her hand.

"So?" he prompts. "What do you think we should do?"

Regina looks up at her husband's face, and smiles at the love and openness she sees in his eyes. They've always been a unit, her and Robin, and she hopes that will never change. The zombie apocalypse and the fall of humanity has certainly done nothing to damage their connection and she just knows that no matter where they are, or where they go, they'll always be just fine so long as they're together.

"Do I think we should travel over six hundred miles and face countless obstacles and dangers all for the slim chance that there might be something waiting for us when we arrive?" Regina asks.

Robin hums and nods, waiting patiently for her answer.

Regina reaches up and cups his cheek. "I do," she says. "I think we should go."

Robin smiles and turns his head to kiss her palm. "I do too," he murmurs.

And with that, they head back to camp, water and decision in tow.

That night, when everyone's gathered around the fire for dinner, they take a vote. Breath is held and then quickly released when the results come in unanimously. They will go to are made over fish soup, and David quickly starts laying out plans and jobs and preparations. They'll leave in two days, and bid Atlanta good riddance.

Robin scoots closer to Regina as everyone discusses what is to come. He takes her hand in his and brushes his lips against her knuckles. "Excited, love?" he asks quietly.

Regina wraps her arms around his waist and squeezes tight. "To go on an adventure with you? Always." She leans up and kisses his cheek. "Let's find a home."


End file.
